


Between thee and thine

by Macdragon



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdragon/pseuds/Macdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>F'nor as a green rider au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between thee and thine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrokath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrokath/gifts).



Famanoran watched his brother Falarnan walk off the sands with a promising bronze dragonet at his side. He wasn’t surprised that Falarnan—F’lar now, they’d talked about what their names would be—had Impressed bronze. Their father, F’lon, favored his older son, and had already begun training him to take a leadership position. Impressing bronze was just the logical next step. Falarnan hadn’t even seemed nervous today. While Famanoran’s heart was pounding, his hands sweaty and his robes too itchy, Falarnan had been stoic as ever, standing tall and proud at the front of the group of candidates.

Famanoran squirmed in his scratchy robes now, looking away from his successful brother to the remaining eggs. Another cracked open, revealing a sturdy looking brown hatchling. The dragonet creeled out its hunger, flopping ungracefully into a cluster of candidates and catching one in the hip. The boy jumped back, yelping, while another in the group gave a cry of triumph. “His name is Melith!”

More eggs spilled their contents onto the sands, all blues and greens. There were two eggs left now. The larger of the two split open in a hailstorm of shards, and a smug bronze strutted a few steps before tripping and falling on his face. The dragonet squealed in pain and surprise. “Oh no, Tanyth!” A boy ran out of the crowd to help his dragon back to his feet.

The hatching of the final egg went largely unnoticed, as the crowd applauded for the new bronze rider. A green dragonet was all that was left of this Hatching, her eyes whirling red with hunger.

Famanoran sighed and turned to go. He would be left to Stand another day, while Falarnan went on to weyrlinghood without him.

_Famanoran! Where are you going? I am HUNGRY!_

The voice was plaintive, eager, and most definitely _female._

“No. You can’t be for me. Choose someone else, Canth.” The name came to his lips naturally, like something he’d known his whole life. Famanoran turned around to try to further persuade the little green to go away, and then he was looking into her multifaceted eyes, swiftly whirling rainbow. Except now yellow was fast replacing the prism of Impression.

_You do not want me?_

At once, F’nor fell in love. People had always said that Impression was indescribable, and they were right. The sad note in Canth’s voice broke his heart. She would always love him, unconditionally, and it was his duty to do the same for her. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Canth.” He let the name roll around on his tongue, so familiar.

 _I am still hungry._ She brightened again, with the typical resiliency of a dragon or a child of any species. She gave him a nudge towards the Weyrlingmaster handing out buckets of fresh meat to the new weyrlings.

“Of course, Canth.” Running a hand along the green’s still damp neck, he led her off the sands.

For that moment, at least, he didn’t notice the questioning looks he got from the other weyrlings, least of all his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

_Two Turns Later_

“Brighten up, F’nor. That old fool R’gul doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” F’lar clapped his brother on the shoulder as they moved towards the dining hall. They had just finished Wing training, and F’nor had stopped to speak with the Wingleader about some ideas he had for new formations with a heavier focus on the blues and greens.

 _“Blues and greens are for grunt work. That’s it,”_ R’gul had told him shortly before shooing him away.

“R’gul doesn’t even think Thread is going to fall again. He’d rather see the Wings stop training altogether,” F’lar continued as they entered the warm dining hall. F’nor let the subject rest for now and they picked up their plates. Manora had done a fine job, as usual. F’nor was slightly biased—he got to enjoy his mother’s home cooking every night. She hadn’t treated him any differently since he Impressed green, and he was grateful for that.

He followed F’lar to the bronzeriders’ table. The dining hall didn’t have assigned seating, but it might as well have. The bronzeriders clustered together near the front of the room, while the blue and green riders sprawled out near the back, always talking loudly and laughing. If those riders got quiet, it was dangerous—it meant they were gossiping about something especially scandalous.

At least, that was what everyone said. F’nor never sat with them. He chose to eat with his brother and the other bronzeriders, his knots be damned. For the most part, they accepted his presence—as long as F’lar was around.

Tonight, he didn’t much feel like talking anyway. R’gul’s dismissal had left a burr in his side, and despite F’lar’s encouragement, annoyance still simmered in the pit of his stomach. The pompous conversation of the bronze riders around him rubbed him the wrong way, and he excused himself early to head up to the Heights.

Canth was already waiting outside. The green enjoyed Watch duty. She loved to watch the Weyr go by, and greet the dragons that came went. But she seemed particularly restless tonight, pacing back and forth as she waited for him.

"I’m here, Canth.” He patted her shoulder before jumping up onto her back, settling comfortably for the short flight.

 _You’re late,_ she said, though he wasn’t. She jolted up into the air too quickly, speeding up to the perch on the Heights. She landed with the sound of claws scraping on rock, and all but shook F’nor off her back.

“Someone’s touchy tonight.”

Outwardly, she didn’t seem upset. Her hide was glowing with health, and she’d seemed energetic today in training. Perhaps she was picking up on his foul mood. Feeling guilty, F’nor fell silent, giving her some space.

They were only alone for a few minutes, however, before a dark blue dragon appeared to join them. _Why him?_ F’nor thought, the words only for his dragon. M’lin was a Blue rider a few turns older than F’nor, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the blue and green riders, always stirring them up to trouble. The man also had an affinity for fashion that puzzled F’nor. Tonight, for something as simple as watch duty, he was dressed in an embroidered flight jacket, with a blue ribbon that matched his dragon’s hide holding his dark hair back.

“Evening.” F’nor greeted M’lin curtly before taking a seat beside his dragon and opening the journal he’d brought with him, intending to draw out more of his Wing formation ideas.

M’lin made a noise of distaste. “Oh, turn your back then. I’m not excited to be watch partners with you, either.” The tall man slid down from his dragon’s back.

“Excuse me?” Despite being rude himself, F’nor was taken aback by the blue rider’s blunt manner. He felt the irritation he’d been nursing all night growing. People didn’t speak to him like that. He was the Weyrleader’s son, even if he was a green rider.

“No one likes to be on watch duty with a proddy green rider,” M’lin said simply, leaning against his dragon and smirking at F’nor.

“We’re not proddy!” F’nor answered forcefully. “I’m just having a bad day.”

“Hmm. Look, F’nor, I’m not a bronze rider, saying that green riders are proddy every time they get a little grumpy. I know what I’m talking about. Banoth and I have chased enough greens in the past few turns.” A sultry turn to that smile, now, and F’nor huffed and moved to Canth’s other side so he wouldn’t have to talk to the blue rider any longer.

 “You’re sulking,” M’lin called over to him, but F’nor continued to ignore him, opening his journal again.

He stared at the pages, but he didn’t see them. In truth, M’lin’s words had caused a knot of anxiety to form in his gut. Canth was a late bloomer. Most of the greens in their class had already risen for their first mating Flights. It wasn’t something F’nor was looking forward to, and he’d put it out of his mind. But she had to rise sometime. It was a normal part of being a healthy green dragon, and the last thing he wanted was to find that something was wrong with his Canth.  

At least Canth seemed to have calmed down now. Sitting in the crook between her arms, he could feel her tense posture relax, her eyes whirling into a slow, pleasant blue-green.

Except that she wasn’t watching the Weyrbowl, like she was supposed to. Her head was turned towards Banoth, watching intently as M’lin oiled itchy spots on the blue’s hide. F’nor followed her gaze, seeing the way the cloth in M’lin’s hands moved over Banoth’s muscular form.

F’nor shook his head, dispelling the thoughts, unsure of whose they even were.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

Early the next morning, F’nor found himself at the feeding grounds, yawning as he watched Canth hunt. Despite the late night of watch duty, he hadn’t slept well once he got back to his weyr, and then Canth woke him shortly after sunrise with her restless hunger.

 _You’re a grown up. You don’t need me around when you feed anymore,_ he thought, but he was awake anyway, so he threw on some clothes and went down to the corral.

Canth tore into her beast with unusual vigor. The sight might have turned another man’s stomach, but F’nor had been watching dragons feed his whole life.

He glanced up as a shadow fell over the corral. Nemorth was making her ungraceful way towards the feeding area. Her hide was more yellow than gold, and F’nor could swear she had gotten even fatter since the last time he had a close look at her. She landed heavily on the ledge above the corral.

 The Queen made a pitiful sound at Canth, who paused in her feasting to snarl. _It’s mine!_

 _Canth,_ F’nor shot his dragon a word of warning, shaking his head. Canth was normally strong willed, but she shouldn’t have been so comfortable defying a Queen.

 "Issalth will do it.” A voice sounded behind him and F’nor glanced over his shoulder to see T’ryl, a softspoken green rider from his Wing. A moment later, the man’s petite green dragon swept into the feeding grounds, killing a beast with a single clean blow and carrying into up to Nemorth’s ledge. The green dropped the offering on the ledge before going to hunt for herself, and Nemorth happily began to gorge herself.

“I feel bad for her,” T’ryl remarked, looking up at their Queen as he came to stand beside F’nor.

“Why? It’s not our fault Jora is too slow and stupid to raise a decent Gold.” F’nor was still feeling prickly.

“Yes, that’s what we’ve been told.” T’ryl’s expression was unreadable, his eyes on the dragons going about their hunt in the pen. “Canth looks remarkably bright. Is this her first rising?”

“As everyone seems keen on discussing,” F’nor replied, crossing his arms. Canth had finished her beast and sat back, licking her muzzle free of blood.

T’ryl shrugged. “Green riders talk about their dragons rising. You should get used to it. I’m surprised you haven’t been gossiping about it for weeks…but then I don’t see you at the green riders’ table very often, do I?”

F’nor shook his head. “I prefer to join my brother.”

“You’re not like the rest of us,” T’ryl’s teased, his cheeks dimpling as he laughed. “Still, that means you’ve missed out on all the tips about mating flights.”

“I don’t need you to tell me about the birds and the bees, if that’s what you mean.”

“I wish it was that simple. A few words of advice, one Green rider to another. You should watch out for some of the bronzeriders, especially R’gul. They like to force catch inexperienced Green riders. And something tells me he might have a particular dislike for you that would show itself in a Flight. But any Green can outfly a Bronze, if she’s prepared.”

F’nor leaned back from the fence, considering T’ryl’s words. “Why are you helping me?”

"Like I said, one Green rider to another.” T’ryl’s tone lightened again. “Isn’t there anyone you fancy? It’s more fun when there’s someone you _want_ to win.”

“No.” He didn’t know any of the blue riders well enough, truth be told, even if he intended to _fancy_ any of them.

“Hmm. Well, I know who’s got his eye on you.”

“What? Who?” In spite of himself, F’nor’s interest was sparked. Maybe it was just Canth’s sharding prodiness talking again.

“My, you really don’t pay attention. You haven’t seen M’lin mooning at you from across the dining hall? Don’t tell him I told you that”--as if F’nor would have the opportunity—“It’s totally obvious anyway, though.”

“It is not. M’lin was giving me plenty of trouble last night during Watch.”

"That’s his way of showing affection.” T’ryl chuckled. “See, if you spent more time at our table, you would know these things. Well, we’ve got to run. It’s our turn for watch now. Come on, Issalth.”

F’nor watched them leave, T’ryl striding away with his hands in his pockets, Issalth winging over the fence to follow him. _So you’re just going to drop that and go?_ He shook his head, bemused. 

 

* * *

        

  _MALES! FOLLOW ME!_

F’nor was in the dining hall, at the bronze riders table again, eating lunch. Canth was asleep, giving him a moment of peace, but he could barely think. He had just pushed his plate back, feeling nauseous, when Canth’s mental scream reverberated through his mind. Judging by the reactions of the riders around him, they’d heard it too.

A dizzying wave of pure desire swept through him as F’nor rose from his seat, kicking his chair back and racing out of the dining hall. Canth was no queen, and she didn’t blood. With a growing pack of males already gathering beneath her, she rocketed into the air, an audible bugle echoing out in the wake of her spoken words.

F’nor gasped, his steps faltering in the middle of the weyrbowl as he watched Canth speeding into the sky. His vision wavered, and he saw the clouds above, the lip of the weyrbowl not far in front of him. He glanced back and saw the foolish males, all colors, believing they could best her in flight. Exhilaration and lust curled hot in her belly.

He hadn’t expected it to be like this. Everyone knew what affect a Gold flight could have on a rider. But Canth was just a green.

Just a green…

The most beautiful, most powerful green in the Weyr. The males would never catch them.

F’nor felt a hand on his elbow and recoiled, teeth bared, snarling like his dragon.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“You have to get to your weyr.” M’lin’s voice cut through to the human side of his brain, and F’nor blinked, the Weyrbowl resolving himself around him. But soon, he knew he would be completely overtaken by his dragon. He started walking again, then jogging, until he reached his weyr. M’lin was at his shoulder the whole time, and several other riders were in pursuit.

Once inside, he retreated to the bedroom, wishing he could slam the door on them but knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate. The men were getting much closer to him than the males were to Canth in the sky. Up there, she was free, dancing through the sky and not letting any of the boys within range.

Until, suddenly, she was aware of a large bulk directly above her. Canth looked up and hissed, speeding up to avoid the approaching bronze. Hath copied her, launching himself ahead, claws outstretched…

“No!” The disgust jolted F’nor back into awareness, and he saw R’gul’s smirking face instead of Hath’s threatening form. Until M’lin stepped in front of R’gul, grabbing F’nor by the shoulders.

“Come on, F’nor. You can do this.”

M’lin’s touch had angered him earlier, but now he leaned into the other man, grateful for the distraction from R’gul.

And Banoth appeared at Hath’s side, snapping at the bronze’s wingsails. Hath turned to snarl at the blue, and Canth drew away from him with a powerful kick to his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Hath fell away, dropping from the Flight, and Canth zoomed away again with a triumphant crow.

One by one, the lesser males dropped out, unable to keep up with a young green faster and more agile than they could ever be.  In the end, only a few remained, and the choice was obvious. Canth’s bold screams softened to a croon as she flew into Banoth’s path.

Blue and Green fell together, and F’nor forgot everything else.

 

He came back to himself to the sound of Canth and Banoth landing on the ledge outside, still twined around each other. Canth didn’t say anything, but she was projecting smugness.

It made him laugh, and then he rolled over and saw M’lin beside him. The blue rider was propped up on one elbow, looking beautifully undone, his face red and his hair loose around his shoulders.

And speaking of smug.

“You’re going to have to cut that hair when Thread starts falling again,” F’nor said, sitting up. He was sore, although he wasn’t sure if it was from their activities or his link with Canth. They’d never flown like that before.

“Spoken like a Weyrleader’s son,” M’lin said dryly. “But F’lon isn’t here now…at least I hope not. And it’s a rest day. I was planning to stay in bed.”

F’nor cleared his throat and looked around for his clothes.

M’lin shrugged. “I’ll go then. I’m not a bronze rider, to pounce on you for a second round if you don’t want it.” He started getting up, but not before F’nor caught the look of genuine disappointment on his face.

Canth and Banoth were so cozy, and while the Flight had been blurred through his dragon’s thoughts…well, he didn’t have a bad time.

“Wait.” He pulled M’lin back down to the bed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

M’lin smirked. “Now that’s spoken like a _Green rider_ , F’nor.”

* * *

Epilogue  
15 Turns Later

F’nor and F’lar stood below the Eye Rock at sunrise. F’nor was nursing a mug of klah and trying not to yawn. It was earlier than he usually rose, but they had wanted to see for themselves what the Watch rider had told them yesterday. 

“While I’ve got you, I had another idea…” F’nor said, breaking into the silence. 

“Another one?” F’lar raised an eyebrow. “I already told you, I’ll try the new formations in our Wing. But I have to clear it with Wingsecond K’net first.” 

“I should be your Wingsecond.” F’nor took a sip of his klah. He was only half joking. 

“Your Canth wouldn’t even be able to last a whole Fall.” 

“I know. That’s why I came up with the formations, to better accommodate the greens shifting. Anyway. The other thing—why not increase the candidate age again once Ramoth clutches? “ 

F’lar regarded him thoughtfully. “Why? We have plenty of boys ready to stand.” 

“And plenty of older ones to be Searched in the Holds. We need men for Threadfall, not boys. Besides, boys as young as R’gul had standing for the last clutch on greens…It’s not right.” 

“Hmm.” F’lar looked back up at the Eye Rock. 

“You didn’t even think of that, did you?” F’nor said gently. “Will you do it for me at least? Remember, we wouldn’t even have Lessa if it wasn’t for Canth’s search abilities.” 

“I remember.” F’lar shook his head. “I’ll do it if I’m Weyrleader.” 

“You’ll be Weyrleader.” His brother was confident about his future position usually, and F’nor knew that he would only reveal this insecurity when they were alone. “I think Lessa fancies you. You could try charming her. R’gul won’t be able to do that.” 

“True enough.” F’lar was smiling a little, now. 

They stayed until the Red Star rose in the sky, confirming what they already knew. And then it was back to their lives, F’lar the respected Wingleader, F’nor the faithful greenrider. 

Just a few days later, Ramoth rose. He’d told F’lar and Lessa both to choose—and he’d trusted well enough that they’d choose each other. He stood in the bowl and watched until Mnementh caught Ramoth. And then F’nor went to seek his own pleasure elsewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I definitely had fun writing this prompt. 
> 
> Thank you to leapersonata for the beta read.


End file.
